


Stocking Filler 5

by Persiflage



Series: Berena Secret Santa 2020 [5]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Berena Secret Santa 2020, Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Mild Sexual Content, Serena Campbell: Bisexual Extraordinaire, Stocking Filler, post-Kyiv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28124355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Canon Divergence: Bernie and Serena didn't get back together again inThe Kill Listand things have been frosty between them ever since.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Series: Berena Secret Santa 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027821
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68
Collections: Berena Secret Santa 2020





	Stocking Filler 5

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lapal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapal/gifts).



> Written for Lapal, who selected _Icy conditions_ from the Berena Secret Santa Stocking Filler prompts, so I went for emotional iciness rather than the literal sort that appeared in my last Stocking Filler.

Serena glances around the ward as she crosses toward the consultants’ office, noting with satisfaction that everything seems to be quiet and in good order. Not that she’d really expected anything else, not when Bernie Wolfe is running the night shift. Whatever their ongoing differences, she cannot deny that the Major runs a tight ship when she’s in charge of AAU. 

Entering the office, she notes that Bernie’s desk is surprisingly tidy given the blonde’s usual dislike for paperwork. Of the woman herself there is no sign, but her pink wool coat is still hanging on the coat rack. 

Serena takes off her coat, puts her handbag in the bottom drawer of her desk, then boots up her computer and drinks some of her coffee while she waits for the machine to wake up. She finds herself reflecting, yet again, on how much Bernie had hurt her by running off to Kyiv and then maintaining radio silence for the duration of her secondment, despite Serena’s best efforts to establish contact. 

On her return she had offered Serena a badly wrapped bottle of Shiraz and an apology full of stuttering and stumbling words, but for once Serena wasn’t prepared to forgive the trauma surgeon. No, this time she was maintaining a grudge, too full of hurt and resentment at the way the rumour mill had fallen with glee upon the news that the normally steely deputy CEO had begged – _begged!_ – her co-lead not to leave, but the stoic Ms Wolfe had gone anyway. There had been whispers and jeers, and songs about her, too, and Serena, whose dignity had already been in tatters from the aforementioned begging, had allowed herself to harden her heart upon the Major’s return. However much she’d wanted to accept Bernie’s apology and her assurances that she had changed as a result of the loneliness she’d felt while in Kyiv, Serena had stayed resolute. Her demand, “If you were so lonely, why didn’t you answer my emails, or texts, or voicemails?” had been met with more stuttering, and she had stormed out of their office and busied herself doing any number of other tasks on the ward to ensure she and Bernie didn’t cross paths again that day.

Since Bernie’s return a few weeks ago, Serena has maintained an icy indifference towards the blonde, helped by the fact that she had switched Bernie to the night shift a few days after her return to AAU, so they rarely see each other except at the handover from day shift to night shift and vice versa.

She’s finished her coffee and her pastry (not medicinal, thank you very much, just breakfast), and is halfway through her email inbox, when Bernie trudges into the office looking thoroughly worn out. Serena feels her heart constrict at the dark circles under the other woman’s eyes, but she doesn’t react to the sight of her co-lead beyond a terse greeting of “Ms Wolfe.”

Bernie swallows. “Ms Campbell.” She subsides into her chair and jiggles the mouse to wake up her sleeping screen and Serena glances at the clock in the corner of her screen.

“Your shift finished half an hour ago,” she observes neutrally.

“I’m aware,” Bernie says, her voice soft and raspy. “Had an RTC patient come in. Tried to operate but couldn’t stop the internal bleeding. Had to send her to ITU to warm up before I can try again.”

Serena stares at her. “Are you going to be fit to operate once she is warmed up?”

Bernie raises an eyebrow. “I’m perfectly capable of doing my job, thank you Ms Campbell.”

Serena fights the urge to snap. “According to the overnight reports, you’ve already carried out two lengthy trauma surgeries during your shift.”

“Your point being?” She sounds very stiff, but also irritated, but Serena can’t not say something.

“Maybe you should let someone else take this?”

Bernie’s posture goes rigid. “If you think you can find another trauma surgeon with my skills and experience in the next hour, you’re welcome to get someone else to take this,” she says. “But I’ll thank you not to imply that I don’t know my own limits. And I’ll remind you that I’ve worked under far worse conditions than a quiet NHS hospital in England.” She pushes up from her chair, almost visibly shedding her previous tiredness and moving towards the door. “I’ll also thank you not to impugn my abilities again, Ms Campbell.”

She stalks out and Serena swallows hard a couple of times, then sniffs. She hadn’t really intended to impugn Bernie’s abilities; she’d just been concerned for the other woman’s well being. Sheer foolishness, she thinks. She knows that Bernie’s capable of taking care of herself and doesn’t doubt that she knows her own limits, but for a moment all she could see was how worn out the blonde was looking. She glares at her computer screen until her eyes have stopped prickling, then makes herself focus her attention back on her inbox.

She doesn’t see Bernie again until some hours later, when the blonde returns from the theatre where she’s been putting back together the young woman motorcyclist’s shattered pelvis and legs. Raf had returned from the theatre a few minutes before Bernie, eyes shining with the thrill of working alongside Bernie on such a complex surgery. She remembers that thrill all too well and feels a pang of jealousy and hurt that she hadn’t got to share it herself, but Bernie hadn’t asked for her assistance in the surgery, and she hadn’t dared to offer it after their earlier exchange.

Serena’s at the nurses’ station when Bernie trudges back to the office, looking far wearier than she had the first time Serena had seen her. She sits down at her desk and wakes up the computer and Serena can’t help watching as Bernie scowls at the screen, then turns to glare at her. She squares her shoulders and crosses to the office, closing the door behind her once she’s inside.

“What’s this?” the blonde demands, jabbing at her screen.

“What’s what?” Serena asks mildly.

“You’ve taken me off the rota for tonight.”

“Of course I have,” Serena says. “You’ve just worked a sixteen hour shift that involved three complex surgeries. You need to go home and get some rest, proper rest, before you come back.”

“Still don’t trust me to know my own limits, then,” Bernie says, glaring across their desks.

“I’m quite sure that you do know your own limits, Ms Wolfe,” Serena says. “But I don’t believe it’s in the best interests of the ward or our patients for you to come back onto the ward this evening.”

“And what if another trauma case comes in tonight?” Bernie asks. “Will it be in the patient’s best interests if your trauma lead isn’t here?”

Serena raises an eyebrow. “We’ll call you in if we absolutely cannot do without you.”

Bernie glares, then turns her attention back to her computer. After a few minutes she gets to her feet, drags her satchel out of her desk drawer, then pulls on her coat and disappears out of the door. She doesn’t slam it behind her, not quite, but it does bounce against the frame with a bang. Raf speaks to her as she’s crossing towards the doors and she shakes her head, then jerks it towards the office, before she disappears through the doors.

Raf comes and knocks on the half open door.

“Come in, Raf,” Serena says wearily.

“Everything alright?” he asks. 

Serena just tilts her head and gives him a quizzical look. He shrugs, then says, “I asked Ms Wolfe about one of the patients we dealt with last night and she was rather short with me. Told me that everything was now the responsibility of ‘Fräulein Campbell’.”

She winces, recalling the teasing way Bernie had nicknamed her ‘Fräulein’ as a consequence of her ‘Nuremberg-y’ speech of introduction on the day Jason had started working at the hospital. She swallows, then says, “Ms Wolfe is annoyed because I’ve ordered her to take a day off following a sixteen hour shift that featured three complicated surgeries.”

He frowns, then moves away from the door to sit in the guest chair nearest her desk. “Are you and she still at odds because she went to Kyiv?”

“You might say that,” Serena says. “I haven’t forgiven her for running out on me when I was begging her to stay in the middle of the ward, if that’s what you mean.” It’s Raf’s turn to wince and she doesn’t doubt he’s also picturing the humiliating scene. “She also ignored all my attempts at communication during her secondment, maintaining a radio silence worthy of an agent dropped behind enemy lines.”

“Ouch,” Raf says quietly. “I didn’t realise that things were so bad between you. I mean, anyone can see the two of you no longer have the same rapport.”

She gives him a hard stare and he shrugs. “C’mon, Serena, it was blindingly obvious to everyone that you two were very close, and even more so after Fletch was stabbed. And it’s been blindingly obvious over the last few weeks since she returned that you two are no longer as thick as thieves. You’re icily civil to Ms Wolfe and she only seems to have her usual confidence when she’s in theatre dealing with a complex surgery.”

Serena fiddles with her pendant. “I – I hadn’t realised we were being that obvious,” she says quietly.

Raf shakes his head. “Sorry, but yeah, you are.”

Serena leans her elbows on her desk and presses her palms against her eyes. “What am I going to do, Raf?” she asks.

He rubs a hand over her shoulder blade. “It seems to me that the best thing you can do is talk to each other and try to fix this.”

“I don’t know if it can be fixed,” Serena says. 

“You won’t know until you try,” Raf says. “But, for what it’s worth, I think the two of you are brilliant together, professionally speaking, and I think you’d be equally brilliant together personally. And the ward will be a happier place if the two of you aren’t at odds with each other.”

“Duly noted,” Serena says. She sighs. “What did you want to ask me about?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, Mr Hardwicke.” Raf puts the patient file down on her desk and she looks it over, listening to his concerns, then tells him what he needs to do. But half her mind is on Bernie and the realisation that she still cares deeply about the other woman; worse she wants to take care of Bernie, to look after her in a way that she’s sure no one else has ever done since it’s easy to see the blonde’s too used to putting others before herself to let anyone take care of her.

_Despite how pissed off with her I am, I still love her_ , she thinks after Raf has gone. Part of her is annoyed by the realisation, the part that wants to carry on holding a grudge against Bernie to her grave. But the larger part of her sighs in recognition that she should’ve acknowledged this fact sooner. 

_I’d better go and see her after I finish here. See if I can make amends._ She’s a little bit hopeful that she can, if only because Bernie is a lot more forgiving than Serena knows herself to be.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She’s grateful to leave on time for once, and after she’s gathered her things, she heads out to her car and drives across town to where Bernie lives. Her house isn’t as grand as Serena’s leafy detached, but it’s not a dump, either. She stops off at an Indian takeaway en route and orders what she knows are Bernie’s favourites, including lamb curry and naan. She also stops at an off licence to buy the beer that she knows Bernie prefers to drink with this particular takeaway and she grabs a bottle of Laphroaig whisky, since she knows that Bernie prefers whisky to wine. She does have with her the badly wrapped bottle of Shiraz that Bernie bought for her on her return from Kyiv. 

Thus armed, she drives the rest of the way to Bernie’s house, parking nearby, then carries her spoils up to the door. She has a momentary qualm, wondering if she should’ve texted or rung Bernie first to say she was coming over, but it’s too late now that she’s on the doorstep. She rings the bell, then waits a little impatiently for Bernie to let her in.

The door opens and Serena feels her breath catch in her throat at the sight of the blonde wearing a bathrobe, the belt cinched tightly around her waist, and her hair wet. She’s barefoot and looks thoroughly gobsmacked at the sight of Serena, though probably for different reasons than Serena’s feeling gobsmacked.

“S-sorry,” she stutters. “I – um – I wanted to talk to you. I realise now that I should’ve phoned and checked that it was okay to come over.”

“Come in, Serena,” Bernie says in a weary tone. “You’re letting the cold in.”

“Oh, of – of course.” She steps over the threshold when Bernie steps back and pulls the door open wider. “I – um – I brought dinner,” she says. “But if this is a bad time, I can just leave it with you and –”

“It’s fine,” Bernie says. “Come through to the kitchen. You can find the cutlery and stuff while I go and put some clothes on.”

“O-okay.”

Bernie frowns at her, probably wondering why Serena’s continuing to stutter. “You alright?” she asks.

“Y-yes. Fine.”

“Hmm.” Bernie leads the way into the kitchen and Serena sets down on the table the paper sack containing the takeaway, then she takes out the bottles of beer, whisky, and Shiraz from another bag.

The latter earns her a raised eyebrow, but no comment. “You know where everything is,” Bernie says, and at Serena’s nod, she walks out.

“Phew!” Serena says, letting out a deep breath. She really hadn’t expected to be so viscerally affected by the sight of Bernie in just a bathrobe. “I’ve got it really bad.”

She shakes herself, then pulls off her red wool coat and hangs it on the back of one of the chairs before pulling out plates, cutlery, and linen napkins, neatly rolled and bound by carved wooden napkin rings that Serena knows Bernie inherited from ‘Granny Wolfe’.

Bernie returns within a few minutes, now dressed in her usual skinny jeans, together with a tight ribbed white vest top and red checked flannel shirt that she hasn’t bothered to button up. She’s put some slippers on her feet and towelled her hair dry, and she still looks gorgeous, Serena thinks, feeling heat building up in her belly and between her legs. 

She swallows. “I know you normally prefer your beer chilled, but I didn’t want to presume.”

Bernie nods, then carries the beers over to the counter by the fridge. “Want one?” she asks, and Serena nods. She watches as Bernie takes two beers from the fridge and brings them over to the table, setting them down on coasters.

“Oh, do you prefer to drink it from a glass?” she asks.

“Straight from the bottle is fine,” Serena says quickly.

Bernie nods again, then settles herself into the seat opposite Serena. 

“I thought you’d like to know that the reports from ITU regarding Ms Evans were promising.”

Bernie raises an eyebrow at this, then smiles shyly. “Thanks for finding out for me.”

“You’re welcome.” 

They load their plates with food and start eating, and although the silence isn’t as companionable as it used to be, neither is it as frosty as it’s been of late.

“I owe you an apology,” Serena says after a few minutes. That elicits another raised eyebrow, but no accompanying smile. “I haven’t been behaving very well since you got back.”

Bernie waves her fork dismissively. “I hurt you,” she says simply. “You had every right to be mad at me since you were the wronged party.”

“That may be so, but I’ve still treated you unfairly. I shouldn’t have made you continue doing night shifts without a break. And I could’ve been kinder.”

Bernie shrugs. “I could’ve been less of a coward,” she says. “I told you that you needed space and time, but that was a lie. I was the one who needed those things.”

“Why?” asks Serena.

Bernie sighs, then swallows some beer. “The thought that you were falling in love with me terrified me. Probably even more than my kissing you had terrified you. I don’t exactly have a brilliant track record with relationships, what with being married to a man for twenty five years despite being a lesbian. And then, of course, there’s the whole being involved with a subordinate while still married to said man. I’m a pretty poor prospect.”

Serena stares at her and Bernie shifts in obvious discomfort. “I don’t exactly have a stellar track record with relationships either, in case you’ve forgotten. I stayed with Edward for far too long after I found out he was having affairs and one night stands with other women. I also briefly got back together with him, which was an even bigger mistake than staying too long with him in the first place. And my most recent boyfriend was a dull policeman who treated Jason abysmally. In between Edward and Robbie were a number of other men who were tiresome or boring.”

She drinks some of her beer, then adds, “You are neither tiresome nor boring, you get on fantastically well with Jason, and if you’re as fantastic in bed as you are at kissing, then you are going to well and truly rock my world. And I’m quite ready for that to happen if you’re at all interested?”

She can’t help noticing that Bernie’s cheeks have flushed pink, making her look even more attractive than usual. 

“I – um – I would be very interested,” Bernie agrees. 

“Good.”

They finish eating, the silence between them now not merely companionable but charged with their undeniable sexual chemistry.

After they’ve cleared up, they retire to Bernie’s sitting room with a glass of Shiraz for Serena and a double whisky for Bernie. They sit impossibly close together on the sofa, the fingers of their free hands entangled between their bodies until eventually Bernie lifts Serena’s hand and presses her lips to Serena’s knuckles. Then she turns her hand over and presses her lips to Serena’s palm, then the inside of her wrist, before drawing her teeth very lightly over the spot her lips were just upon. 

“Bernie.” Serena doesn’t mean to moan the other woman’s name, but that’s how it comes out. 

“Serena.” Bernie says her name in a throaty rasp that does things to Serena’s insides and she can’t help tugging on the other woman’s arm, bringing her close enough to kiss her fully on the mouth. 

Serena doesn’t remember putting down her wine glass, but she must have done at some point because Bernie is soon pressing her gently down onto her back, then kissing along her jaw, down her throat, and into the open neck of her blouse. 

“May I?” she asks, her voice still raspy and unbelievably sexy. 

Serena nods, not quite sure what she’s assenting to since she’s feeling drugged by the sensation of Bernie’s mouth on her skin. After a moment, though, she realises that Bernie’s unbuttoning her blouse and is kissing a path down her torso, pausing to briefly suckle on her hardened nipples through her bra, before resuming the line of kisses down Serena’s body.

“Bernie!” She gasps when the blonde cups her sex through her trousers. 

Then she groans when Bernie sits back up. “Let’s go to bed,” she says, and when Serena nods agreement, she climbs off the sofa, then holds out her hand, drawing Serena upright, then helping her off the sofa.

They make their way to Bernie’s room, which is as plain and unadorned as Serena would have expected it to be, had she given any thought to what the blonde’s bedroom would be like.

“Okay?” Bernie asks tenderly as they pause beside the foot of the double bed.

Serena nods emphatically. “Yes.”

“Good.” Bernie presses her forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. “If you want to stop at any point, just say so. No harm, no foul.”

“Duly noted,” Serena says, then she tips Bernie’s face up and kisses her soundly. “But you should know, soldier, that I’m waiting for you to take me to bed.”

The blonde chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.” She tips two fingers to her temple in a parody of a salute, then sets about finishing what she started, getting Serena down to just her bra, panties, and stockings in a matter of moments. 

“Do you mind if I leave the stockings on?” Bernie asks shyly.

Serena arches an eyebrow at her, then feels smug when the blonde blushes prettily. “If it matters that much to you.”

“I don’t mind if you’d rather I took them off.”

“Leave them,” Serena says. “You can take them off for me afterwards.”

Bernie smiles. “Of course.”

She slips Serena’s bra off while kissing her and Serena has to admire the trauma surgeon’s dexterity as she does so. Then she kisses a path down Serena’s torso a second time to the waistband of her knickers. 

“You’re very wet,” Bernie murmurs, obviously taking note of how soaked said knickers are.

“And whose fault is that?” asks Serena, one eyebrow raised. She gets a smug little grin in response, before Bernie peels her panties down and steadies Serena as she steps out of them. 

Bernie nuzzles her nose into Serena’s untamed bush, then laps at her clit, and the brunette gasps as sensation shoots through her body. She can’t help whining a little when Bernie pulls away, then gets to her feet.

“Shh, love, it’s okay,” she says, then guides Serena backwards onto her bed. “I’ve got you.”

Serena gets to watch as Bernie strips off her own clothes, and she can’t help noticing that the other woman hasn’t bothered with a bra, which explains why her hard nipples are so prominent before she takes off her vest top.

“You’re gorgeous,” she breathes when Bernie’s finally naked before her.

The blonde shakes her head. “I’m scarred and too skinny,” she says.

“Oh, you’re not too skinny at all,” Serena says firmly. “You’re slim, lithe, and remarkably athletic for a woman of our age.”

Bernie waggles her eyebrows. “Athletic, is it?” she says in a teasing tone, and oh, how Serena’s missed that – until now she hadn’t realised just how much she’s missed Bernie’s teasing. 

“I thought you were going to show me a good time, Major?” she asks, injecting her own teasing note into her voice.

Bernie smirks, then climbs onto the foot of the bed and crawls up it, looking almost predatory in the way she moves. “I’ll definitely show you a good time, Campbell,” she murmurs by Serena’s ear before her mouth descends on Serena’s and she kisses her almost senseless and very much to breathlessness. 

Serena moans into Bernie’s mouth when a finger teases at her entrance, then she groans embarrassingly loudly when that finger slides inside her and crooks just so.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Serena wakes from an extremely comfortable doze needing to go to the bathroom and as she tries to slip away from Bernie, who seems to be sleeping more soundly, the blonde tightens her grip on her.

“Shh,” Serena whispers. “I’m coming back.”

Bernie opens one eye, then the other, and peers at her through her messy fringe, then asks, “Promise?” Her voice is low and gravelly, once again doing things to Serena’s insides. 

“Promise,” she whispers and leans in to peck a kiss to her lips.

“Okay.”

Bernie’s eyes are closed again when Serena returns from the rather chilly bathroom, but they open immediately when she slides back into the bed. 

“Do you want to borrow some pyjamas?” she asks.

“I think I might,” Serena admits. “If you’ve got some.”

Bernie chuckles. “I have. It’s lucky for you that I tend to buy them roomy otherwise the top might not fit.”

Serena raises an eyebrow at that, but the blonde just chuckles, then leans in and says softly, “Don’t think I’m complaining, Campbell. I like your more ample breasts.” She squeezes one, presumably to emphasise her appreciation, then she kisses Serena rather thoroughly before slipping out of the bed and rummaging in the chest of drawers. Serena can’t help admiring the view: Berenice Wolfe has a very pert bum and she likes it rather a lot. 

Bernie doesn’t turn round but she does ask, “See something you like, Fräulein?”

“I do,” Serena agrees easily, smirking at the blonde when she does turn around with a bundle of clothing in her arms, which resolves itself into two pairs of pyjamas, one a rich wine red colour, the other a similar shade of blue to Bernie’s trauma scrubs. Serena can’t help raising an eyebrow at the sight and is delighted when her lover blushes pink.

“Should I ask?” she teases.

“I like the colour of my scrubs,” Bernie mumbles, passing the red pyjamas to Serena.

“And?” she asks, nodding at them, before pulling the top over her head.

“They made me think of you,” Bernie says with a shrug. “I bought them in Kyiv. Both pairs.”

“Oh love,” Serena says softly. “You really must have been lonely.”

Bernie looks down at the pyjamas she’s still clutching, then pulls the top over her head. “I was,” she agrees, so quietly that Serena almost doesn’t hear her.

She pulls on the trousers, then climbs back into bed, and Serena puts on her own trousers, then shuffles closer to her lover.

“I’m sorry that you were lonely,” she says.

Bernie gives her a fleeting glance, then looks away, her hands fiddling with the hem of her top. “It was my own fault,” she observes. “I could’ve not run away. Or, having run away, I could’ve answered you when you kept trying to contact me.”

Serena clasps her hands in her own. “While that is true,” she says softly, “it doesn’t mean that I’m not sorry you felt lonely out there.” She leans in and kisses Bernie softly, squeezing the blonde’s hands. 

“There’s something I should tell you,” Bernie says. “I – um – I more than like you.”

She can’t help chuckling at that. “So I’d hoped, given where we are.”

Bernie draws her hands free of Serena’s and clasps her shoulders. “I’m a coward,” she whispers. “I don’t just more than like you, Serena Wendy Campbell. I love you.”

Serena grins. “I’m happy to hear you say so. I love you, too, Berenice Griselda Wolfe. And just so you know, I don’t consider you a coward. Okay?”

“Okay.”

They kiss for some time before eventually falling asleep in each other’s arms.


End file.
